


No Chill

by lei_che_sogna



Series: Losing My Cool [2]
Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: Chicken (game of), Dirty Talk, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Missing Scene, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 03:05:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lei_che_sogna/pseuds/lei_che_sogna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An explicit outtake from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4965427">Losing My Cool</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Chill

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the scene I left out from [Losing My Cool](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4965427)! If you're in dire smut-free straits you could read it as a standalone, but it might not make much sense without reading the other fic first.

While Peter could look at Balthazar’s smile for days, his bedroom floor isn’t the most comfortable place for heartfelt romantic revelations. At the same time he almost doesn’t want to get up, in case this new understanding of theirs breaks when exposed to the outside world.

“Do you want to stay here for awhile?” Balth offers. “I’ve got _Spirited Away_ and all of _Futurama_ on my laptop, and snacks.”

That sounds… really good, actually. Maybe he’ll even get in a cuddle or two.

“No hummus?”

“No hummus,” Balth confirms. “Never again. Not unless something really drastic happens to change my mind.”

 _Like me licking it off your body?_ Peter wonders.

Whatever Balth sees in his eyes, he must like. He slides in closer. “Or I have this bed.”

Peter’s excellent at wishful thinking, but he hadn’t expected that to be on the table. He’s so much luckier than he deserves. It’s all he can do not to fall to his knees and beg.

“Is it comfortable?” he asks. Fuck’s sake, like he cares. This is Balthazar. If Balth wants him, he wouldn’t care if it was on a bed of nails in the pouring rain.

“You’ll have to see yourself,” Balth says, lifting his guitar off the bed and putting it away.

He must move too, because he dimly registers that the bed is soft, but all that matters is Balth, sitting next to him. “Wait,” he says, grabbing Balthy’s hands. “I’m doing this all wrong. You should know. I’m clean. Got the results a couple of weeks ago, and there’s been nobody since then.”

“Me too,” Balth says. “Every six months, so I’m not due for another month or so. Do you want to wait until then?”

He knows Balth hasn’t seen anyone since he broke it off with Damien, but he isn’t going to make him say it. Not going to remind him of why Peter’s been getting tested every month.

“Fuck no,” he says, hooking his fingers into Balth’s collar and pulling him in.

The first touch of Balth’s lips on his is like putting the pedal flat on the floor, 0 to 120 in a few seconds. Balth’s clever with his mouth and he’s not afraid to bite, which he follows up with a lick to soothe the sting. Peter gives back as good as he gets, sucking right under Balth’s jaw and making him gasp.

Balth’s the one who takes it further, pushing Peter’s leather jacket off his shoulders and dropping it on the floor. His shirt follows, and now he’s shirtless with Balth, who’s gone back to kissing him with renewed enthusiasm.

Balth’s green jumper comes off easily, and then he’s confronted with one of Balthazar’s ubiquitous shirts. His fingers go to work on the first button. Balth’s holding himself as still as he can, but his breaths are heavier, weighted with anticipation. By the time Peter get to the third button, he’s not entirely surprised to see Balth’s wearing a black tee underneath.

“This is too many shirts,” he complains, trying to hide how difficult it is for him to undo the buttons. His fingers are too unsteady.

“There’s an easier way to do it,” Balth says, and pulls the lot over his head. It gets stuck, trapping him, and Peter has to help him wrestle it off. Their chests brush together, sending an electric thrill down Peter’s spine.

“Shit,” Balth laughs self-deprecatingly, rearranging his hair. “That was gonna be really smooth.”

If there was something he was going to say, he’s forgotten it. His breath has been stolen at the sight of Balthazar shirtless. Years of PE together have given Peter a very accurate idea of what Balth looks like naked, but the possibility of learning his body by touch and taste makes him lose his mind.

“Please?” he whispers, hand hovering so close to Balth he can feel the warmth of his skin.

Balth nods once.

At the first brush of his hand, Balth trembles. His nipples stand out from the smooth skin of his chest. Peter traces one with a forefinger, fascinated at the way Balth pushes into the touch.

As if from a long way off, he hears, “Can I touch you?”

“Yeah.” Anything. He’ll take anything Balth is willing to give, even if he doesn’t understand why.

Balth smooths his fingers along the crease between Peter’s eyebrows, shaking his head. “At some point you’ll have to stop beating yourself up about it,” he says.

A subject change is in order, so he tugs Balth on top of him. There may still be layers of clothing between them, but Balth is just as hard as he is. Another deep kiss and they’re both shaking.

“You’re incredible,” he says.

Balth’s smile is joy, pure and simple.

Maybe not so pure, Peter amends later, as Balth peels off his pants. Why had Peter worn the orange ones? Because they were the only clean ones he had and he didn’t think anyone else would see them.

Aside from the nudity, something else is different about Balthazar. He reaches up to rest a hand on Balthy’s chest, watching it rise and fall.

“You’re not flinching,” he realises. “You used to turn away if I got too close.”

Balth draws another kiss from his mouth, lingering. “You know my biggest secret now,” he says against Peter’s lips. “I haven’t got any more.”

“I’m sure you have one or two. I’ll find out.”

“All you have to do is ask.”

He’d been too afraid to ask before, in case he didn’t like the answer. “I’m sorry,” he says again. He’ll never say it enough.

Balth sighs above him, naked and entirely unselfconscious about it. The ceiling lamp above him crowns his mussed hair with gold, sliding lovingly along his narrow chest. He takes his time studying Peter’s face, kissing away the worries he finds there. “What’s it going to take for you to forgive yourself?”

Peter huffs, short and sharp, through his nose. Might as well ask how he can stop fucking up all the time. “Dunno. If you’ve got any ideas, I’m open to suggestion.”

Balth cocks his head, considering. “You could make it up to me?” he suggests, grinding down just a little, and the room whites out around Peter.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to,” he promises.

He settles his hands more firmly on Balth’s arse and smiles up at him. If this is the only good thing he does in his life, he’s going to do it right. And God, he’s going to enjoy this. He can hear himself panting harshly into the stillness of the room but can’t seem to stop.

“How do you want me?” Balth asks.

“Any way I can get you,” he blurts out, mouth running ahead of his brain yet again.

Balth ducks his head, blushing. He’s been so brave, but Peter wants him to face this too, to know how serious he is.

“It’s true,” he says, tilting up Balth’s chin so he can see the truth in Peter’s eyes.

Peter goes in for one more kiss, drawing it out as long as he can before he has to tear himself away.

“Lie back,” he says, watching Balth arrange himself against the pillows. He settles between Balthazar’s legs. Balth’s panting now too, chest rising and falling in counterpoint to the blood pounding in Peter’s ears. He waits until Balth will meet his gaze.

“Balthazar Jones, may I suck your cock?”

“If you want to, Peter Donaldson, there’s nothing I’d like more.” The laughter in his eyes dies away as Peter breathes along the head of his cock and licks, once, twice.

Slow, he has to do this slow, he reminds himself. He has to show Balth how much this means. He’s had a lot of practise and no complaints, but he wants to make Balth feel better than he ever has before. He wants to obliterate all the past boyfriends, every other blowie Balth’s ever had.

He tastes so delicious, bitter and salt and silky smooth. The way he stretches out Peter’s lips is testing his resolve not to hump the bed. Just a little friction and he’d go off. If the feral gleam in Balth’s eyes is anything to go by, he knows how close Peter is.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Balth whispers, the words ringing in Peter’s ears as he bobs his head up and down. “Please.”

That’s the face Balth makes when he has a plan. In this context, Peter is very interested to see what that entails. He can wait for that.

He can’t wait any longer to see what Balth looks like when he comes. He’s been waiting his entire life, and he didn’t even know. Balth’s thighs are shaking, and he’s clutching at Peter’s shoulders as he works up and down.

“I’m going… to come… in your mouth,” Balth manages, and whether it’s a warning or a command doesn’t matter. Peter takes him in as deep as he can, locking his fingers round Balth’s hips to hold him in place.

Balth throws his head back, emptying himself into Peter’s waiting mouth. As he comes he makes the sweetest whine, high and insistent. If he heard it for the rest of his life on a loop, Peter would never get tired of it.

Balth comes down slowly, and Peter settles in next to him to watch. He brings Balth close but keeps his hips away, trying not to make his raging hard-on too obvious. He spends so long with his face in the crook of Balth’s shoulder that he doesn’t realise Balth is trying to get his attention.

“Your turn.” He moves his feet off the bed and stands up, extending a hand to Peter. “C’mon, you’ll like it. I promise,” he says to the question in Peter’s eyes.

No sooner is he standing than Balth’s on him. Balthazar kisses him again and again, backing him up until he’s against the wall, sandwiched in between the bed and the chest of drawers.

Then he goes to his knees. All the saliva leaves Peter’s mouth. If he dies, this is how he’s gonna go. This will be what kills him: Balth naked and kneeling at his feet, closing his fingers around Peter’s cock.

“I love you,” he says. Peter’s heart does stop at that, and he waits for Balth to start it again. “Let me show you how much.”

The first time he opens his mouth, nothing happens, so he tries again. “Yes.”

No sooner is the word out than Balth swallows him down. He picks up a steady rhythm right away, inexorable and all-consuming. The heat of his mouth makes Peter fist his hands at his sides, nails digging into his palms. Yeah, he’s had a lot of sex in the past year, but it’s never been like this. Nobody’s ever been this hungry for him. Hungry for touch, hungry to come, yes, but nobody gave a shit about Peter Donaldson, only what he could do. And Balthazar is hungry for him. It’s clear he’s wanted this for a long time, that it’s making him feel just as good as it is Peter. He isn’t even trying to quiet the muffled moans that are coming from his throat, and he’s working down and up like he wants to devour Peter. Every time he sinks down, he holds the full length of Peter in his mouth before receding, like he never wants to let go. He’s worshipping Peter. There’s no other word for it.

Balth reaches out, gently tugging at Peter’s right hand. He places it on the back of his own head. Peter needs no more encouragement than that. He strokes Balth’s hair from crown to nape, over and over, trying to stop himself from coming right away. Soon enough has to bring his other hand to bear, telling Balth without words how he’s destroying Peter and rebuilding him, one stroke at a time.

It’s too good, it’s beyond anything, he can’t keep his eyes open. The only points of contact he has with the world are his cock in Balth’s mouth and his hands in Balth’s hair. Nothing else matters but this, and he’s so glad he can have Balth, even if he doesn’t deserve him.

“Balth, Balthazar, please, I’m gonna—”

Balth sucks harder, pressing his tongue at a spot under the head that makes Peter close in on himself and fall apart. He’s in billions of pieces, spiraling out in every direction, with only Balth to remind him where he should be. He’d fall if Balth wasn’t holding onto him, steering him the two steps to the bed. He drops onto it thankfully.

When he returns to himself they’re lying side by side, blankets up around their waists. The ceiling lamp is off, but the ambient light from outside is more than enough for them to see each other. Balth is curled around him, his head against Peter’s upper arm.

“You distracted me,” Peter complains half-heartedly, when he figures he can talk again.

“I distracted you?” Balth repeats. He’s engrossed with Peter’s ear, running the tips of his fingers along it.

“I was going to ask, why did pick Chicken? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful you did, but Chicken isn’t really your kind of game.”

“Why not? I didn’t have anything left to lose, and at least I’d get to kiss you once. I did imagine just going up to you and planting one on you, but you know how I am with confrontation.”

Peter groans low in his throat at the mental picture he gets from that. Balth wouldn’t have kissed him without asking first, and his stupid past self would’ve thought it was a joke and said no like an idiot, but the idea—

“Did you think about it? About me? At night, in bed, before you fell asleep?”

Balth inhales shakily.

“I thought about you,” Peter admits, because he had, in the worst way. He couldn’t do anything but he couldn’t control his imagination. The drinking had made it easier, made it so he didn’t care if he thought about Balth instead of who he was with. And if he’d had any dreams, he could tell himself he didn’t remember them. “When I took a shower, I thought about you, naked, in there with me. I thought about what you did in this room by yourself while I was out being a fucking idiot. I—”

“All the time,” Balth breaks in. “I thought about you all the time. Not just thinking, though.”

This, yeah, this is really doing it for him. He’s embarassingly hard again. He doesn’t have to touch Balth to know he’s just as turned on.

“Tell me.”

Balth’s ears are red, but his voice is steady and so low Peter has to crowd in against Balth’s side to hear him clearly. “One time in particular, after a match.”

“Which one?”

“Last year. The one against St. G’s.”

“Oh, that was a good one,” Peter says, remembering. Messina had seriously owned that day. They’d annihilated St. G’s, twelve-nil. “So hot, though. We barely had any water left to pour on Leo at the end because we were too busy drinking it ourselves.”

“I’d spent the last hour and a half watching you dominate the pitch, and the second you were done you came over. You’d taken off your jersey. You were so ecstatic you’d won. You looked at me like… like all you wanted was for me to be as happy as you were. And then you hugged me, and you were sweating. You smelled… it’s impossible to describe, but you smelled really, really good. My mouth was actually watering. After you let go, I could still feel your arms around me. And then Ben ran up and tipped a bottle of water over your head, and, well, there’s only so much holding a bag in front of yourself can do. I practically ran to the toilets, locked the door, and pulled myself off.”

“Fuck,” Peter whispers in awe. That is the hottest fucking thing he’s ever heard. Only the fact that he can feel himself leaking onto Balth’s hip stops him from assuming he died and ascended to a higher plane. At this rate, he won’t even need to touch himself at all. “I wish I could’ve been there. I would’ve been there if you’d asked. Just to watch, even. Any time.”

“How about right now?” Balth asks, biting his lip.

“I’m game if you are.”

“Chicken? Loser comes first,” Balth says, challenge glinting in his eyes.

“Or the winner,” Peter counters, reaching down to grab himself, but Balthazar’s already there.

“Same difference,” Balth says, angelic expression a filthy contrast to the movements of his hand. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Peter hisses from between clenched teeth. He’s going to lose, and he doesn’t even care. “Can I?”

“Please,” Balth whispers, lacing his fingers through Peter’s. He pulls their joined hands to his chest, dragging them down to wrap them round his own cock. Balth’s wet as well, dripping onto their fingers, and he can’t help himself. Peter lifts their hands to his mouth, licking between their knuckles, chasing each drop with his tongue.

“That’s cheating,” Balth gets out. His jaw is clenched so tightly Peter wants to drag his tongue along it, get him to loosen up a little.

Peter smiles. “Surely you can handle… a little… friendly… competition?”

In response, Balth leans in and sucks Peter’s middle finger into his mouth, cheeks hollowing. His eyes immolate, and Peter is a more than willing sacrifice.

Peter swallows. “Point taken.”

He returns to Balth’s cock, trying to match him stroke for stroke. Balth’s fingers are callused, his grip is just right, and it’s not long at all before Peter’s hips are rocking into that perfect, perfect hand. He can’t quite believe he’s doing this, that he gets to have this. He doesn’t want to miss a single second. Balth’s eyes are bright, a gorgeous flush spreading across his cheeks. He can’t blink, he can’t look away. And Balthazar? He keeps his gaze locked on Peter’s. He can only be honest under the force of that stare. He wishes he’d been ready for this before, that he hadn’t hurt Balth.

He leans forward and Balth meets him in the middle. They’re pressed together, forehead to forehead, eyes and lips millimetres apart. This is the truth he was searching for, and it was right beside him all along.

He’s on the edge now, if only he can hold on long enough—

There. Balth shudders, every muscle tensing up, and Peter’s right there with him. They come together, spilling over each others’ hands.

Balth leisurely licks off Peter’s hand in slow swipes, eyes soft and dreamy. Peter can only return the favour. If you Googled ‘satisfied,’ there would be a picture of Balthy’s face right now.

“God, look how smug you are,” he accuses fondly.

“Problem?” Balth stretches out next to him, gathering up the blankets again.

“Nope. You always have the best ideas.”

“There’s more where that came from.” Balth’s eyes are all potential and new beginnings, and Peter is going to be there for every single one.

“And I’m looking forward to it.” He laughs.

“What?”

“Ben said something to Bea once, some quote from somewhere. ‘I will live in your heart, die in your lap, and be buried in your eyes.’ I just got it.”

Balth snorts. “I can do better than that.”

“You write it and I’ll sing it with you. A happy one this time?”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” He’s sporting a face-splitting grin that makes Peter’s heart lurch happily in his chest.

“Good,” he yawns. He can barely keep his eyes open. Balth’s fingers are running lightly across the side of his neck, rising and falling like the tide, lulling him under. Peter just about manages to lean in and capture Balth’s lips with his own one more time before he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I know you Losers requested I post this, but I still kinda want to apologise for being the third person to write smut for this fandom. I feel like I'm lowering the tone of this establishment. *pink cheeks* 
> 
> Thanks for your patience with me, I had to type this up from my notebook and make extensive edits and lost an entire day recovering from some extremely bad decisions. Don't drink Brennivín, kids.  
> And thanks to commenters spacecar and Bee for helping me think of the title!
> 
> I haven't written smut in a long time so I hope this lives up (or down, hurr hurr) to your expectations. This is unbetaed so let me know if anything needs fixing, and please tell me if you feel I haven't tagged something correctly. 
> 
> St. G's isn't based on a real school but rather the fact that Villa San Giovanni is the closest mainland town to Messina, Sicily.  
> The Ben-quote is of course a Will Shakes-quote from MAAN, Act Five, Scene Two: "I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes."
> 
> Thank you so, so much for all your lovely comments! I treasure each one like a beautiful and precious jewel. Questions? Hit me up on [tumblr](http://farthestfrom.tumblr.com/)!


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